Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Magellan,

I haven’t used this journaling app since middle school. Got a lot of embarrassing poetry stored in this bad boy. With no one but Dariel to tell about today’s events— and I am absolutely not giving Dariel this dirt— I am resigned to spill everything here.

It started with a bottle. Laid on the carpet, empty.

I wasn’t in the semicircle, legs crossed and ready to spin it, in case you were wondering. Because, of course, I cannot cross my fucking legs, remember? My dumb ass was at the edge of the party, wheelchair stationed strategically near the snack table, watching my classmate DJ struggle to properly use an aux cord. The action of the party was far removed from me, but at least my study group had extended the courtesy of inviting me.

It definitely had no connection whatsoever to the endless final projects and last minute assignments I saved their asses at.

I anticipated more of a game night situation. I was wrong. But hey! Zila was there! I don’t talk to the girl very often, but we often go head to head in engineering class so I know her scowl well. We’re on somewhat of the same rung on the social ladder. Our intelligence is respected, or at least sought after for group projects inside the college classrooms, but don’t get us much further outside of that.

At least I thought we were on the same rung. I spied one of the girls from our Theoretical Physics course, Nari I think, grinding on her, so clearly the night is going well for her.

I didn’t know at the time that it’d be my turn soon enough.

I observed the circle form around the bottle on the carpet, set to trap any desperate or bored guests like bugs on a glue strip. Everyone came together so easily, rubbing shoulders and giggling. It hurt a little, that I couldn’t even navigate the crowded space enough with my chair to attempt to join. I KNOW its a STUPID party game. STFU. but can you blame me?

Oh I haven’t even told you.

Scarlett Jones was there, at the party and now in the circle. In all her jean short, crop top, box dye glory. She just got transferred to my Calculus course, but I can tell she’s not very interested. I sit behind her now and suddenly I’m not very interested in Calculus either. Sometimes she flirts with that sexually frustrated guy from the wrestling team who sits a chair away from me. I just like when she turns around, elbow over the back of her chair and a glint in her eye that’s never for me. Sometimes she paints her nails, or smacks on gum. I get one whiff of acetone or bubble gum anywhere, and suddenly I’m thinking of Scarlett Jones and the curve of her neck as she crouches over her desk to perfect her nails.

We’ve spoken. A handful of times. A couple times. Fine it was once. We’ve spoken once. I dropped my eraser over the edge of my desk in the middle of a quiz and I had to, voice-cracking, whisper to ask for her to hand it back. Our professor yelled at us for conspiring or trading notes, which I should’ve anticipated. But what I didn’t anticipate was Scarlett absolutely GOING OFF on him. She pointed the sternest finger I’ve ever witnessed at the graying, ancient professor and given him a piece of her mind. I think at some point she’d demanded that better accommodations for me would have avoided the whole situation. Which isn’t strictly true. I drop my erasers no matter how wheel-chair friendly my table is. It’s the hand tremors.

Either way, being a wide-eyed witness to Scarlett’s righteous fury pretty much solidified the classroom crush into a more real problem. No longer a small encouragement to go to class and survive it, I started searching her out on campus. Starting chewing gum and bringing it around with me.

I felt the weight of the pack of gum in my pocket then as I caught sight of her sitting on the floor. They were too inaccessible through the folding chairs and colonies of cliques, and too far to shout if the random girl I barely knew wanted a piece.
I tried not to watch like a creep. I moved myself to a different corner, to put even more space between us but it just gave me a better view of the bottle game. Scarlet was sat next to the wrestler boy from our class, Kal, drawing pearlescent acrylic nails down his arm.

I imagined the ghostly tickle of it on my own. Pathetic, I’m aware.

Kal raised an eyebrow and said something curt that made her laugh behind her hand. She did that too much. I would die to see her laugh like normal, not behind a hand. I watched Kal shrug off her laugh and look away, seemingly uninterested. Which is absurd and must be a tactic because who would ignore Scarlet fucking Jones like that when she’s RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?!

Clearly Scarlet was put off by this as well, and in a huff she stood. Some how, by some miracle of the maker, her eyes landed on me. No, that couldnt be right. Surely theres a SUPER interesting part of the wall behind me, I remember thinking. It was more plausible. Two steps toward me. Getting a better look at the wall? The snack table? Closer. With her sharp finger nail punctuating the look, she pointed sternly at me, pinning me in place. I saw her mouth “You” but couldn’t hear the words.

Then she was upon me. Well not yet, that part comes later– and so do i– but I’m getting ahead of myself. Speaking of head– Nope no spoilers.

She ushered me out of the corner, to a spot besides the thrumming speakers that wasn't awkwardly islanded but still within Kal’s line of sight. I kinda just floated along, obedient and stunned.

“Finian, right? From Calculus?”

I cleared my throat and my voice still came out a crooked croak, “Yep, ahem, and remind me of your name?”

I wonder to this day if she bought that for a second, or if my general loser vibe and look of utter starstruck gave me away.

“How would you like to earn fifty bucks and full bragging rights?” She popped her hips with her hands on them, grinning like a salesman.

Magellan, I never did get that fifty dollars.

She went on to explain what I already knew, about her and Kal, while I tried not to stare slackjawed at her radiant face under flashing neon party lights. (This is a diary, if I want to call someone radiant then I can goddamn it)

“I’ll lead and you try to not…” She shrugged, “give away the lie of it.”

I didn’t realize I had zoned out. “Sorry, lead me in what exactly?”

“Making a scene, ideally making him jealous or at least regretful,” she shrugged like those were tasks regularly on her to do list.

“Oh.” My heart had stopped, I was a dead man. I am a dead man. Especially if word ever gets back to Tyler Jones about our… activities. “Yeah I can, uh, help you with that. Not that you should need much help. It’s pretty wild that he’s… anyways yeah whatever helps.”

Scarlet gave me a determined nod, militant and driven, and led me out of the conspiratorial corner. Once we were out in the fray, it was clear that she was looking for a way to get closer to me, though I didn’t know how much more my heart could handle.

“You can– uh–” I choked out, awkwardly patting the side of my leg as a clue or a cop out so I didn’t have to find the words.

Suddenly she looked worried, and I thought for sure I’d overstepped or offended. Then she said, “I don’t know if I’m too… I don’t think I should.” I’d never heard her anything that close to unsure before. I had only ever seen her confident and commanding.

I shook my head fervently, “No, no. I’ll be fine. Please.”

I remember the ‘please’ meaning ‘please don’t feel bad’ or ‘please, as long as you're comfortable’. But maker help me it sounded like I was begging for her. I hope the speakers next to us washed the weak sound of it away.

Scarlett nodded and, taking a moment to size up the set up of my legs and chair, before she gently joined me on it.

She was on my lap. Legs straddling me, folded beside my thighs to avoid the wheels. The heat of her pressed low on me. And for FUCKS SAKE her fingers were threaded in my hair as she fawned and giggled over me. For all to see.

My hands were frozen where she had placed them, I didn’t dare push the line she had set. Still, underneath them was the cushion of her love handles, the slight roundness that all her curves had. In all honesty, I wanted to grab. Sink my hands in to hold her there. Not for the ploy, but my own selfish trance. That takes courage, though. All I could do was let her brilliant acting overshadow my obvious stun. I am sure I was sweating bullets. How could I not? I could see the texture of her lipstick and the peek of blonde at her roots, she was so tangible then.

She leaned toward my face, her hands sliding to brace the back of my neck. I could feel the rings she had on, warm from my skin or her’s— who knows?

I swear I was attempting to compose myself. I swear it.

“You look terrified, Finian. Fin? Does anyone ever call you Fin?” She was talking into my ear, so I could hear over the new rambunctious remix. I could sense the closeness of her lipstick, I was picturing the color.

I swallowed hard, “Not really. I’d like it if you did though. If! If you want to.”

I should’ve been looking around at the attention she was garnering for me, the spectacle of us. Checking to see if I was doing enough to invite Kal’s interest. That was supposed to be the point and I promise I knew that. I promise, Magellan.

Then when she pulled away from my ear she was biting her lip. Only the very edge of it, pulled between her perfect teeth. My focus dipped to it right as she repeated:

“Fin.”

I only really saw the shape of it, barely audible in the din. There was the teeniest smudge of red lipstick on her front tooth. It made her so real in that moment. Every sensation of her body on mine tripled.

I should’ve realized sooner the consequences of our staging. The position.

I remember horror flooding me as I realized the newest rush of adrenaline was something else. I remember my eyes going wide, my glasses slipping down the edge of my nose a bit as I opened my mouth to profusely apologize.

She looked down. Of course she did. She must’ve felt it.

OH MY GOD SHE FELT IT IM GOING TO DIE. Does this thing have a self-destruct button? ‘Cause I sometimes wish I did. I can’t go on. Scarlett Jones sat in my lap and played with my hair and got lipstick on her teeth and I— a natural Romeo— got bricked.

I was flabbergasted. I deserve no more graceful description. My hands flew off her, and gripped the edge of my arm rests. I’d say white-knuckled but I’m as pale it gets. Before I could see her reaction, an expression I’m relieved I avoided burning into my genetic memory, a shout went up around where the bottle circle had been.

Scarlett’s head whipped toward it, though my attention dragged a bit slower. A new crowd was forming. Some arms flew into the air, some in alarm, others in cheers. A fight had broken out, and someone called out “Golden Boy!” “Go Jones!”

“Shit, shit!” She was scrambling off of me. A reaction I was surprised she hadn’t taken a couple moments earlier. “My brother–” And then she was gone, barreling through the excited party goers into the eye of the storm.

I’m home now. No one else noticed my situation thanks to whoever ended up rolling on the floor with Tyler Jones (If I wasn’t head over wheels for his sister, you bet your ass I’d wish it was me he was pinning down). But I didn’t stay to find out. I was out of that party in record time. That performance with Scarlett was, I imagine, our last.

It was fun while it lasted I guess. More than fun, I’ve never felt such a buzz. That’s why I’m recording it here, maybe. To make it last.

Chapter Text

The party was simple but well-populated, every circle of students from around campus had at least a couple of representatives. Zila was reminded of a UN meeting, if a UN meeting served everything in red solo cups. The source of the music was impossible to locate so she counted the bass hits as the beat rumbled through her instead. It was not… deplorable.

It became even less deplorable as Nari pulled Zila into the dance circle, grinning and sweating and adorable. The world was loose and amorphous like a pocket dimension. There was nothing she could do as the universe tilted and connected her eyeline with Saedii’s.

Unless they were touching, Saedii always looked cold. Watching Nari on Zila, however, dropped her demeanor to a temperature of absolute zero. An impossible measurement, but still.

Zila shivered and knew there would be consequences. The chills were gratifying.

☾

Zila knew the door was locked without looking. She hadn’t heard it click either, too preoccupied with counting the thud of her heartbeats. But she knew she was trapped because Saedii always locked the door.

The office was empty, dusty, and uncared for. The only space utilized were by file boxes stacked halfway up the wall. Saedii paced by the door, a hound dog on patrol, or rather an assassin on the edge. Zila waited as she always did.

“That girl at the party, what is she to you?”

Zila lifted her eyebrows, unimpressed at the opener, “You know her name Saedii, you have English 130 with her and Intro to Physical Therapy.”

“Who cares what her name is,” Saedii bit out. Her black braids whipped over her shoulder with the jerk of her head. All of Saedii’s movements were harsh, “We are exclusive, you know that.”

“Yes,” Zila allowed, nodding calmly, “We agreed no other sexual partners for safety purposes—“

“Stop being so technical, you make it sound gross.”

“It’s an arrangement. We have terms. It’s factual, Saedii.” Zila knew better than to let Saedii’s barbs sting. She used words like many other people with deflective mannerisms. Zila knew this pattern so she was immune. Most of the time. With Nari being thrown into the mix, Zila was beginning to feel a bit spiky. “For the record, if you must know, Nari and I haven't even kissed yet.”

“Yet?” Saedii’s eyes flashed and she sneered, “What are you, crushing on her or something elementary like that? God, you're such a waste of time.” She prowled closer, the same way she would corner her hallway victims.

Saedii dug her fingers into Zila's waist until she could feel each individual fingernail. The constriction against the wall made Zila feel like a pinned bug under investigation. As Saedii’s black eyes roved down the front of her shirt, Zila’s dark skin flushed. The only heads up Zila received was the slight tightening of her thumbs, like birds flying before a storm.

Then the storm hit.

Saedii overtook Zila’s mouth with an open kiss. The force of it knocked her head back against the wall, but the buzz it left on her skull was warm. Saedii roamed over her full lips, devouring her, before she began biting. When her teeth sank in, finding purchase in the meat of Zila's bottom lip and tugging just so, Zila swore she felt the earth sway. Time began to melt and pool, as it did during their time together. Ever since that fateful day where a cold rivalry exploded into this, and had needed to be corralled into something manageable. Concrete. A deal had been struck.

Breaking away for only a quick moment, pushing Zila's face to the side with a hand that trailed down to find a new home at the base of her neck, Saedii spoke harsh words into the shell of her ear.

“What would Nari think of you now? With my spit in your mouth? That's what’s so good about us. You get to be your own kind of fucked up and I like you that way.”

Zila murmured a brief protest, weak, and her body felt full of static in anticipation.
They had kissed before, transactionally. They had agreed on positions and tried them. But now Saedii was unbuttoning Zilas jeans and grabbing her ass with a roughness unaccounted for in their deals. Zila’s body began moving in tandem with Saedii’s until they were rolling against each other.

Saedii left her mouth and nipped at her jaw. Then, in excruciating slowness, Saedii licked lightly down the side of her neck, over the vein that led right to her grip on Zila’s throat. Zila swore on a normal day she’d know the name of that vein, hell all of the muscles in her neck even, but right now the world had narrowed to the delicious sensation of Saedii marking her. Saedii’s long nails, all beautiful black stilettos except for two, trailed back and forth over the hem of Zila’s underwear where it showed. The press of them stoked the fire, and she felt herself get wet. Zila pressed her pelvis up against her, silently asking.

“Oh, you want me? Go on then, ask little genius. You know the words.”

Zila huffed, indignant, “Just do it, Saedii.”

Saedii’s grip on her neck tightened and she jostled Zila gently for emphasis. “You think you’re better than a bit of begging?”

Zila answered with a slack jaw, her mouth vulnerable to the crashing kiss that Saedii punished her with. Saedii grabbed Zila’s tongue between her lips and sucked. Zila was mistaken, this was the pocket dimension, not the party. Explanation and measurement escaped her, the tools of her mind were useless except for their translation of her nerves firing.

“You don’t need anyone else, Zila. Do you think Nari can make you feel like this, hm? You think she could make you cum like I’m about to?” Saedii’s voice was growing gruffer, more rushed. There was a heat in her voice like she was almost edging herself by getting Zila off.

Zila’s supercomputer of a mind combusted and she gasped out a moan. “Fuck.”

“You’re halfway there.”

“I think I am.”

“No, I mean finish the demand or you won’t get it,” Saedii’s fingers stopped moving and pressed, still, on her navel. The pause was excruciating.

Near panting, “Fuck me,” Zila breathed.

In one swift move, Saedii’s fingers slipped under Zila’s underwear and felt at her. The chemicals buzzing in Zila’s body exploded like fireworks. She was wiggling under Saedii’s grasp, her panting worked up to moans. Saedii kept her ear close and collected Zila’s indecent noises zealously.

Her fingers slipped in and out with a sweet curve. Zila couldn’t stop the tremors in her legs as Saedii upped the tempo. Removing her free hand– maker this girl was good with her hands– Saudi curved it around one of Zila’s breasts. Cupping her and kneading. With her thumb, Saedii felt for her nipple through her sports bra. Saedii moved against her, long legs straddling Zila’s bent knee. She rocked against Zila’s thigh.

If Zila could count she’d calculate how many of her erogenous zones were engaged, but right now it might as well be all of them. Wordless sounds turned to shouts of pleasure. Reason stated they were in a public facility and there could easily be people outside walking by to hear. Lust stated–

“That’s a good girl, yelling for me.”

Saedii swallowed her screams, barely containing them with her own mouth. A flick of Saedii’s tongue coincided with a particularly rough thrust and sent Zila tumbling over a climax. Saedii clapped a hand over Zila’s mouth as she called out Saedii’s name in blind ecstasy.

The room was so dark, and Zila was so dizzy, she barely registered being flipped toward the wall. It dawned on her as her pants were pulled down to her ankles that Saedii was suddenly crouched down behind her.

“You came so good baby,” She hummed, “I’m just gonna admire my work, hmm?”

Zila’s damp underwear joined her pants on the floor and Saedii’s spread her legs with a hand high on either thigh. Stepping apart, Zila felt Saedii’s breath low between her legs and it sent shivers through her that got her riled up all over again.

"You're gonna forget anyone else who’s ever touched you. Isn’t that right?”

Zila nodded fervently, bracing herself against the wall with flat palms. Saedii murmured praise mixed with insults that sang in Zila’s blood.

“And is Nari ever gonna lay a useless finger on you again?”

Zila’s mind was genuinely fogged over for the girl kneeling and ready to eat her alive when she said: “Who?”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

And then Saedii’s mouth was on her and Zila could do nothing but bask in the reality of where she stood in the universe at that moment.
☾

Chapter Text

“Okay so it’s my dormmate Bjorkman’s party right? End of finals week bash. Everyone’s there. Like, people who I didn’t even recognize, who definitely haven’t crossed paths with Bjorkman, who-on-earth-is-our-mutual-connection type of party. He’s hosting at a frat house that owed him big time--"

“What’d he do, clear porn site viruses off all their laptops?”

“Honestly, that’s pretty close,” Tyler chuckled into his phone, holding it to his cheek with his shoulder, balancing an armful of binders as he fiddled with his lanyard to find the pass card for him dorm, “Anyways, everything is bumping. Everyone is having a good time. Except for me. Cause guess what? Kal is there."

A feigned gasp.

"I asked Bjorkman and he doesn’t have a clue who let that chump in. Remember when Kal and I used to go head to head in junior regionals, then high school?

The voice on the other end of the line sighed, “How could I forget? It’s only all you’d talk about. Who beat who’s ass, how’d you’d really show him next time. Your dads getting into screaming matches in the stands.”

“How he landed a scholarship at the same uni is beyond me.” Now he fiddled to find his room key.

“Unoriginal, much?

“Thank you! That’s what I’m saying, Cat!” In his dorm room, Tyler relieved his arms of their burden, straightening his binders into their corner on his desk and setting his camo backpack into his chair where it always rested, “He’s such a placeholder and he doesn’t even realize it."

"I meant you, Ty. You've said all these lines before."

Tyler ignored her and carried on, "So he’s there, and Scar is fawning over him. Don’t ever tell her I think this but it was kinda pathetic to see. Gross and sad at the same time. Made me miss when you two were together, not gonna lie. And that says a lot because you two were PDA incarnate.” Off went his sneakers, kicked off then corrected and set a shoe mat by the door.

Cat laughed, “In highschool freshman year? We hadn’t even figured out how to do our own eyeliner yet, there’s no way we could navigate a relationship together. She can have Kal, she just has to text me before hard launching on instagram again because I’m gonna kill her if I learn about her newest conquest that way again.”

“No, Cat, you’re supposed to be on Team Hate Kal. You're Team Tyler.! He grunted as he shoved the tiny dorm window open, attempting to air the place out, or at least banish some of Bjorkman’s dirty laundry stench.

“Oh right, yeah fuck that guy,” She sounded utterly unenthused, it made him smile as usual.

“I’m sorry am I boring you? A boy can’t yap to his best friend anymore, huh. What are you even doing right now?”

“Uh... just staring at what should be the last touches on my final collection. My school’s semester is like a couple weeks behind yours’, remember?”

“Oh shit yeah. You art school weirdo.” Fondness crept into his voice, though it had truly been there the whole time to those listening past the digs and bickering.

“Eh. I’ll probably end up with a tattoo apprenticeship instead of a residency. Let’s be real.”

“I don’t know, Cat. I think you’re gonna nail it.”

A stretch of silence, its nothingness amplified on speaker from Tyler’s nightstand as he yanked on a sweatshirt and reached for his basketball shorts. He knew he’d turned the conversation sincere but sometimes he had to catch her off guard in order to force any support on her.

“So are you two gonna like, fight or fuck at the end of this story?”

Tyler tripped on the edge of his shorts, misplacing his weight on the edge of a cheap rug that slipped out from under him and sent him, arm flapping, onto his back. Coughing and sputtering, he stared at the ceiling as Cat’s laugh buzzed through the phone, filling the room.

“I hate you.”

She hummed, “I’m sure you hate Kal more.”

“I tackled him in the middle of the party,” Tyler said out of breath, “That’s the punchline I was working up to. I wasn't even drunk, you know that I like to stay sober. We bumped into each other, I told him to back off me and back off Scar–”

“Yeah I'm sureee that’s how you put it Ty.”

“And then he said some stuff about Dad. Cause his father’s alumni at this uni or whatever, and I clenched my fists. He stiffened up like he always did when he knew I was gunning for him back in the day. With that look in his eye. I told him he was a wannabe, a dropout waiting to happen. He bristled, got in my face and said real low– so everyone would think I was starting it– 'you’re dead Jones'.”

“Sooo- and just clarifying here- you full body tackled him like a mature adult?”

“Shut up you threw a chair at my head.”

“In kindergarten!”

“Well me and Kal knocked over a keg.” Tyler said dryly. In his mind he could see their limbs flailing as clear as day, a childhood full of rivalry blurring and folding the years over themselves until even a college party became their battleground. Cheers had sprung up, Scarlet has ran over to scold and break it up. “Spilled it everywhere. Broke a coffee table. Bjorkman says we both owe him for it. And the frat’s pretty pissed too. Kal and I have to meet up to redo their carpet and put together a new table from Ikea. I think I need to replace one of their novelty bongs too. They threatened us with things I thought had gone out of fraternity style decades ago.”

“That’s what they want you to think. So they can get away with the really gnarly hazing and shit.”

He rested his arm over his face, shorts abandoned at his ankles. “I’m on track to graduate summa cum laude. I can’t be pulling stunts like this. So I’m going to do it ll, I owe them for my behavior. I just wish I didn’t have to put up with Kal's smug face the whole time. You know that he twists his face up everytime I say his name? Like I’m insulting him or something. And he rolls his shoulders back before every attempt at a comeback.”

“These are not things straight people notice about their sworn enemies, Tyler. I’ve told you that befor.” She said, sing-song.

“He’s a dick with an ego problem.”

“Woah there Summa Cum Laude, strong language.”

“A Political Science Masters student doesn’t wait up for jocks with a struggling GPA, anger management and a sub-par state player ranking.” Tyler said sternly, as if to cement the reasoning.

“But they do fall over their feet at the mention of them and spend a lifetime ranting to their friend because they can’t think about anything else?”

“Hey Cat?”

“What’s up, Ty?”

“Hang up the phone and go finish your awesome art project.”

Beep.